Justifying The Means
by thewriteroflostcauses
Summary: Not everything has to work for a reason. Sometimes, things just do.


When Demyx had still been Myde - or when Myde had not yet become Demyx - he used to think that love was stupid. That it had no real point, no real purpose, no real reason to _be_. He hadn't been able to understand why someone would give up their everything, generally changing who they were, just because they "loved" someone else. It didn't make sense. Didn't add up. He just didn't get it. Why love someone? _Why_? It couldn't be about the sex, because he'd been having plenty of that without ever needing to love anyone. It couldn't be about how great the other person was, because most of the time people fell in love with idiots, or assholes, or just plain _awful_ people. It couldn't be about the looks, because, apparently, love was supposed to "be all about the personality". It couldn't have been about how happy the other person made you, because usually a person that was in "love" was miserable ninety percent of the time.

It was strange that while he had still been a human, had still possessed a heart, he didn't even know how to use it. But, now that he was a Nobody, and had no heart to use, he understood completely. What had changed him? Simple, really.

Zexion.

His cold, quiet, manipulative, _beautiful,_ superior. Zexion was everything that Demyx wasn't. Zexion was incredibly smart. Demyx had to rely on _notecards_ to remember most of his tasks, and that really didn't do anything for his intelligence. That was not, however, to say that Demyx was an idiot - by no means was he. Zexion was quiet. Demyx was (just a bit) over the top in his mannerisms. He liked to be heard, liked to have fun, liked to be _Demyx_. And that was really all there was to it. Zexion's powers came from something sneaky, something that was somewhat of a lie, manipulative, and Demyx couldn't lie - let alone manipulate - to save his life. Zexion was cold. He rarely spoke to the others, and when he did, his words were well picked out, perfectly pronounced, carefully constructed. Demyx never _stopped_ talking. He fumbled over his words, and said things that never made any sense.

And, above all else, Demyx thought Zexion was _beautiful_. He was breathtaking. He was small and pale and just so perfect in every single way, and Demyx didn't know /what to do/. Every time he saw his superior, Demyx's mouth went dry, he couldn't think of a single coherent thought to put together. His palms would get sweaty, his throat would close up, his chest would tighten - and he had no idea what was going on. He felt like he was dying. Except, he knew that something like that wasn't possible. He was already dead, so to speak.

Had he still been Myde, he - might - have identified this as love.

Now, Myde had been shallow in his life. Myde had based things solely off of appearance. If something looked good, he wanted it. If a girl had a nice ass, or huge boobs, or a stunning face, then he had wanted her. It didn't matter if she was the cruelest, coldest, most rude bitch in the world - Myde had _wanted_ her. And, as the smooth-talker he had been in his previous life, he'd always gotten what he wanted. Simple as that.

Demyx was nothing like Myde. Demyx was loud, borderline obnoxious, sure. But Demyx wasn't a smooth-talker. Demyx knew that there was more to a person (or, well, a _non-person_, in this case) than what met the eye. While Myde had been in things for the physical, Demyx was out for something a little more deep. When Demyx saw Zexion, he wasn't thinking about _oh god he would look so hot underneath me_. No. When Demyx saw Zexion, he saw butterfly kisses. He saw nights spent in each other's arms, whispering words that they would wish they could mean. He saw hugging, and hand-holding, and - _something_ that he just couldn't put a name to. He saw something that he'd never known before. Something that he really _wanted_ to know, really wanted to _experience._

It was more than wham, bam, thank you, ma'am.

It was more than the fact that Zexion _looked_ good.

But, _god_, Demyx just didn't _know_. All he knew was that it was thoughts like those that kept him up at night, imagining how easy it would be to fall asleep in a certain slate haired male's arms.

xXx

Back when Zexion had been Ienzo, or Ienzo wasn't Zexion yet, or whatever, he had been young and curious. He had just wanted to know more, so desperately wanted to know more. More about the world, more about people, more about what made people _tick._ His desire to learn, his desire to figure out everything, had been his - their - greatest downfall.

The term "curiosity killed the cat" had never been more accurate. Curiosity had, quite literally, _killed _ the cat. Except, Ienzo hadn't been a cat. Just a poor, unfortunate boy.

Ienzo had never had much time for anything other than science and learning. He could quote some of the greatest scientific theories verbatim, could recite mathematic equations and solve them all in the same breath. But, the thing was, he never knew _why_ the math worked, or _why_ the science existed. To him, it just _did_. He could tell you how the heart was beating, how the blood pumped through ones veins - but he couldn't tell you _why_. Something like that should have been quite obvious, right? The hearts beats to keep you alive, right? The blood pumped to keep you _alive_, right?

Wrong.

It wasn't like that at all. Ienzo's mistake had proven that. Beings could survive without hearts. They didn't _need_ them. Which, inheritantly, must mean that they served an entirely different purpose altogether. But _what_ was that purpose? Ienzo hadn't known. Zexion didn't know.

Unlike Demyx and Myde, Zexion and Ienzo weren't all that different from one another. Neither of them knew the why, only the how. They didn't understand anything about justifying the means. Zexion just assumed that it was one of those great, big mysteries of the universe.

Until, that is, he met Demyx.

Demyx was, blatantly put, filled to the brim with surprises. Most Nobodies were eerily similar to their Somebodies. But from what Zexion had heard, Demyx was _nothing_ like his. Zexion didn't understand how that worked out. So, being the scholar that he was, Zexion wanted to know. He wanted to figure out why Demyx was so different from everyone else in The Castle That Never Was. The slate haired man began to study the blonde. It was not as though he was stalking him - nothing of the sort. He just began to pay more attentions to things that Demyx did. The way he acted towards the others, the way he talked, behaved -just his mannerisms. He figured that if he figured out how Demyx could have been so very different, then maybe - just maybe - he would be able to finally piece things together. Or, at least come closer to doing so. He began to gather information from the others about how Demyx had been as Myde. Naturally, very few knew. Actually, the only person that really supplied sufficient details was Axel. Apparently he and Demyx had become rather close since the latter's arrival to the Organization.

It was several weeks after Zexion had become interested in Demyx's behaviors that he realized that... well... his _interests_ had gone beyond that of what could be considered normal. It had become a pseudo obsession.

He more often than not found himself wondering what it would be like to talk to Demyx, get to know him on a personal basis. He began asking himself questions like, what would Demyx feel like? How soft is his hair? What's his favorite color, favorite food, favorite kind of music? What would it be like to hold him, to soothe away his fears and nightmares in the dead of night? He began imagining things. Creating pictures in his mind of how _wonderful_ it would be to hold Demyx, to kiss him, to _bed_ him. He imagined what it would be like to have Number Nine beneath him, writhing underneath the touch of his hands; he imagined what it would be like to be pressed flush against the other, hips moving in unison, cries spilling into the musky air; he imagined what it would be like to see that soft looking blonde hair that was always styled in that ridiculous way, all splayed across Zexion's pillows, back arching, jaw hanging open and-

He had only talked to the other a total of four times in the months that Demyx had been present, and here he was thinking about things that he had no business thinking of. Zexion was just as frightened as he was appalled with himself.

But, more than the shuddering fantasies that often times plagued his dreams and left him in a mess of cum splattered sheets the following morning, Zexion thought about what it would be like to simply _be_ with Demyx. To feel Demyx's body heat, to feel the other's arms wrapped around him. He wondered what it would be like to have the blonde all to himself.

Zexion really, really wanted to _love_ Demyx. He didn't know why. It didn't make sense, honestly. They could _not_ love. Besides, they were so different from each other. But maybe that was why. Maybe Zexion wanted to taste something that was nothing like himself.

Or maybe, just maybe, Zexion wanted to feel the heaven that he'd missed out on. And Demyx seemed a whole lot like heaven to Zexion.

And that scared him. It really, truly scared him.

xXx

It was late one night during one of the colder times in The World That Never Was, and it seemed like everyone else was out on a mission, when Demyx made his way into the castle library. It was dimly lit, and seemed to be empty. And he'd never been in here before, even though he'd been living in the castle for what seemed like _years_ (in reality, it had only been a few months). However, contrary to what Demyx thought, the library was not vacant. There was, as per usual, a certain man seated in one of the cushioned chairs positioned against the far back wall of the room. He was curled up in said chair, legs drawn up and tucked beneath him as he bent over the book he was reading, slate hair shrouding his face. Demyx knew that the other probably had the most serene look on his face right now. He was probably caught in thought, or perhaps he was lost in whatever it was that he was reading. Either way, Demyx was positive that Zexion looked beautiful. He stood there for he didn't know how long before his presence was acknowledged. He hadn't been aware that he was staring until a pair of light blue eyes were looking up to meet his own green pair. Zexion was the one to break the awkward silence that had suddenly befallen them.

"Number Nine."

Demyx cringed. He _hated_ being addressed with that number. _Slaves_ were labeled with numbers. _Prisoners_ were labeled with numbers. _Hospital_ patients who had few days left to _live_ were labeled with numbers. Demyx was none of those things.

Other Organization members would be quick to disagree with that.

"Number Nine, what are y-"

"Demyx."

"Pardon?"

The blonde shifted uncomfortably where he stood. "M-my name. It's Demyx." The other arched a dainty eyebrow.

"I am fully aware of th-"

"Then call me _Demyx_. I'm not a number, you know?" Zexion shrugged.

"If that is your wish, then. _Demyx_, what are you doing here? Shouldn't you be working?"

"I could ask you the same." He flinched inwardly at his own words. He hadn't meant for that to come off as disrespectful, but if the frown worming its way across Zexion's previously stoic face were anything to go by, it _had_ come off as disrespectful.

"I do not believe that it is in your right to question your superior, _Number Nine_." Coming from those lips (the lips that Demyx often fantasized about) that title sounded exceptionally cruel, and full of unrelenting malice.

"Sorry!" Demyx quickly gasped out. "I really didn't intend for that to sound as rude as it did!" It was sad how, though this was the first real conversation that the two had shared since... well, _forever_, this whole ordeal was going nowhere, fast.

With another shrug, Zexion went right back to his reading. And Demyx resumed his observing (staring) once more. A few more minutes passed by with neither budging, the only sound being that of their breathing, before Zexion released an exasperated sigh.

"Demyx."

The blonde snapped out of his stupor (creepy staring).

"What- oh! Yeah?"

"Are you just going to stand there and stare, or are you going to come over here and join me?"

xXx

And, just like that, some semblance of a routine was established between the two of them. Any time when neither had much work to do, or when they simply found themselves craving the other's presence (and even that particular occurrence was well synced between them), they met in the library. Not much was said, but it was nice just to be near the other. When there was any exchange of words, it was brief and cordial. Business-like, even. But that didn't bother either of them.

However, eventually, the two began to open up to one another. It started with simple questions like, "How was your day?" or "How did your most recent mission go?" or "What did Superior say when he summoned you to his office earlier?" A friendship was born between them. For Demyx, it was nothing out of the ordinary. But, for Zexion, it was _new_. He'd never had a real friend before (lest you include Lexaeus and Vexen, but even they were more like colleagues), so he didn't know how to interact very well with the blonde Nobody. It was awkward, at first, but somehow they managed to work past that, and found that they both had almost nothing in common. Yet... yet they both couldn't think of a more perfect companionship.

Yeah, sure, Demyx could get a little annoying.

And, yes, it was true that Zexion's vocabulary was intimidating, to say the least.

But Zexion found that Demyx was entirely tolerable, and Demyx discovered that Zexion's big words were nothing a dictionary couldn't help him decipher. It came to a point that the two Nobodies began to find some sort of refuge in the other. It was strange, but it worked. If Demyx had a question, then he knew that he could go to Zexion, and that the slate haired male would have an answer for him. If Zexion needed someone to vent to, then he knew he could count on Demyx - contrary to what most people probably believed, the sitarist was a _profound_ listener. Neither of them thought too much about it. They were as close to being friends as they possibly could be, what without having hearts and all.

And even though Zexion made Demyx rethink everything he'd ever known, and even though Demyx left Zexion a physical mess, the two were just about as "happy" as they could be.

xXx

"Zexion, what's love?"

The slate haired male tore his eyes from his book to look up at Demyx, blinking away the shock at the sudden (random) question. The two had been sitting in relative silence until just then. Zexion had barely bothered to look up since Demyx had entered the library, about ten minutes ago, he assumed. But, now that he _was_ looking, he noticed that the blonde looked... what, troubled? He wasn't sure if that was an appropriate word, but...

"It's an emotion." The scholar replied. Demyx huffed, facial features morphing into a pout.

"Yeah, I know _that_. But what _is_ it? Like, how does it feel? To be in love, I mean." He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, refusing to look directly at the other. Zexion's brow furrowed. He wasn't entirely sure if he could answer this question or not. But at the same time... he couldn't help but wonder...

"I wouldn't be able to tell you, Demyx. I was unable to experience that particular emotion while still having a heart. But I was always told that there was no greater feeling than loving, and being loved in return."

Faster than he could blink, Demyx's eyes met his. And if he'd had a heart still, it would have stopped beating.

"Then loving someone and not being loved back must be the most torturous thing possible for people with hearts." Zexion couldn't help but notice that something about Demyx was off. There was something in his eyes that was just unidentifiable, something amiss.

"Yes. I... I suppose that would be an accurate assumption."

"I see."

They lapsed back into silence, staring at one another for what seemed like forever. Then, Demyx stood up and bid Zexion farewell before exiting the library, leaving Number Six to his thoughts.

But all he could think about was that question, and why the blonde had looked so incredibly strange.

xXx

He wasn't sure how it had started. It happened so fast.

One minute, they had been wandering through the library, Demyx following Zexion around as the illusionist searched for a book.

And the next, Zexion was being pressed up against a bookshelf with Demyx's lips smashed against his own. His brain completely shut down as he was overtaken by everything that was _Demyx_. His smell, the touch of his hands as they found his waist, the feeling of his slightly chapped lips moving slowly but deliberately against his own pair.

And how many times had he fantasized about this? He'd lost count.

All too soon, the blonde was pulling away to catch his breath. He stayed close, though. Zexion's face must have been ten shades of red at the very least. He'd never been kissed like _that_ before. But he couldn't quite place what was so different about it...

"What was-"

"I love you."

Zexion stared at Demyx. Then, without thinking, he shoved the other away, his head lowering.

No.

It wasn't _possible_. He didn't _mean_ it.

"You don't have a heart, Demyx. You cannot love someone, without a heart."

No.

No, he wanted to scream. No, no, no.

They didn't have hearts. They couldn't love. They couldn't. They couldn't, they couldn't, they couldn't, they _couldn't_. Demyx was delusional. So why, oh, _why_ did this _hurt_ so much? Why did it _hurt_ to accept the fact - the _fact_ - that Demyx could not _love_ him?

"You cannot love me. You _cannot_," His voice had lowered to a whisper, "Can you?"

The blonde remained silent, and that was all the answer that Zexion needed. He spun on heel, and left.

xXx

_Hot hands pressed to cold skin_ -

Zexion rolled over onto his side in his bed.

-_leaving fiery paths in their wake_ -

He clamped his eyes shut tight, willing sleep to come. All he wanted was to escape these thoughts. Escape these images. He didn't want them anymore. He'd gotten in over his head. He had been after something that he couldn't have.

-_gentle kisses trailing down his neck_, _across his chest_, _over his stomach_-

Demyx couldn't love him.

-_his back arching into expertise hands_, _that name falling from his lips like a mantra_-

He didn't want this. Demyx _couldn't_ love him. Why did that hurt so much?

-_his body was begging for the release_ _that he was being deprived of_-

He didn't _want_ this anymore.

-_his desperate cries_ _filling the air around them-_

He just wanted a heart. He just wanted-

-_at last wet heat_ _encompassed him-_

He jerked into an upright position, his hands burying themselves in his hair. What had he been thinking? He should have stopped while he had been ahead. If only he had just understood that _they didn't have hearts_. He wouldn't have...

-_lick, lick, suck, suck-_

...he wouldn't have let himself fall into a love that couldn't exist. And this wouldn't hurt so much.

-_yes_, _yesyesyesyesyesyesye_-

He fell back, head hitting his pillows as his hand betrayed him, sneaking beneath his sheets to sate the aching need growing in his underwear as he gave in to what would surely do no good for his waning sanity.

xXx

Weeks passed. Weeks in which neither Number Six nor Number Nine acknowledged each other's existence. When they passed in the halls, there were no words exchanged. During meetings, the other was invisible. Demyx refused to go anywhere near the library.

But behind closed doors, the two couldn't seem to stop thinking about one another. Demyx couldn't shake the feel of Zexion's lips, couldn't get the memory of the way his waist had fit so perfectly into the firm wrap of his hands. Zexion couldn't rid himself of the sickening fantasies, couldn't seem to stop picturing the blonde flushed and writhing beneath him, crying his name and-

They both realized that they were up a creek without a paddle in this situation.

Demyx wanted to love Zexion, and Zexion wouldn't let him.

Demyx _couldn't_ love Zexion, and Zexion _knew that._

Zexion only wished that he had done things differently. He only wished that he hadn't allowed himself to become so invested in Demyx, so _obsessed_.

Demyx only wanted to prove that they _did_ have hearts. He just wanted to love Zexion, more than anything else.

xXx

They both snapped at the same time. And Demyx only knew one thing:

Zexion was kissing him. Passionately. And Demyx was reciprocating unabashedly. Neither could remember who had initiated it. Maybe it had been Zexion, or perhaps it had been Demyx when he had yanked Zexion to the side after the meeting, simply because he wanted to talk but-

That didn't really matter anymore. The fact was, _they were kisssing_. And it was better than the first time.

"Z-Zexion..." They were both shocked to hear the desperation in Demyx' voice, the begging and the pleading in the tone. The heat of the slate-haired male's palm pressed more firmly against the blonde's lower back while the other arm snakes around his waist, yanking him closer.

The way Zexion was moving sent Demyx' skin crawling; there was no way that this was the same man who closed himself up in the library for hours on end - not this incredibly irresistible person taking charge with no reserve.

But there was no sense focusing on that when Zexion was kissing him like this.

He tangled the fingers of one hand in the front of Zexion's leather cloak, the others sliding around, fisting into slate locks. It was difficult, this position, considering that Demyx had to bend over a bit - not that he really cared. He tilted his head, ever-so-slightly, to the right and pressed parted lips against Zexion's with more need, starting another round of desperate desire and blood boiling kissing. Zexion's lips were soft in a way that Demyx had never experienced - in this life or the last. His hair was so soft, so silky, and it was pleasurable to just rake his fingers through it, tangling in it, and tugging to tip Zexion's head back so that he could attack the tender, pale and supple flesh of his neck.

When Demyx started _biting_, Zexion was sure that he would be going crazy any second. It was heaven - or, quite possibly, hell. Because this feeling was so delicious that there was no way it fell anything short of sinful. Nothing should have been _this_ euphoric.

And things just escalated from there. Eventually, they abandoned the hall - even in a bout of desperation, they both had at least a little decency - in favor of Demyx' room.

(Zexion was fairly certain that they wouldn't be able to deal with the repercussions of doing it in his own room).

Zexion was positive that he would never forget the way that Demyx had looked, all an arched, panting, sweating, erotic, _beautiful_ mess - he was absolutely positive that the image had been seared into his brain.

(His fantasies paled in comparison.)

When they were finally finished, something happened, though. Zexion was going to pull out, when suddenly Demyx grabbed him by the arms. Now that the post-orgasmic high had faded, Zexion saw that the blonde was all but curled into himself, tiny sobs wracking his lanky body. There were tracks of tears on his face. It _broke_ something inside of the schemer.

"Demyx, what's wrong?" He hurriedly asked, reaching a hand up to cup the other's damp cheek, stroking the soft skin with his thumb.

"I'm so sorry!" He gasped out, beautiful green eyes looking up at Zexion as they filled with tears anew.

With a furrowed brow, Zexion asked, "For what reason?"

"Because..." He took a deep, shaky breath, "I know that you said that I couldn't love you - but, then _why_ does this _hurt so much_? Why does it hurt to know that this means _nothing_ to you?"

Two things came to Zexion's mind in that instant. Firstly: it was strange to realize that Demyx had just vocalized his own question - _why did this hurt so much_? Secondly: Demyx thought that this didn't _mean_ anything to him?

"You're wrong." He whispered to the blonde, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to his forehead. "This means so very much to me. You have no idea. And.." The blonde's eyes had widened, the tears previously there slipping free and sliding down his face.

Zexion breathed and continued. "I don't know why it hurts, Demyx. But I'm going to figure it out. For you. I promise."

xXx

_Slam_!

Demyx nearly jumped out of his skin as the man across from him slammed his book onto the table they were sitting at.

"Okay," Zexion started, "I have a theory." Demyx blinked.

"Go on, then."

"We don't need hearts to love someone."

The blonde blinked again, eyebrow arching as he stared at his companion.

"But I thought that we needed hearts to _feel_. At least, that's what we were told, right?"

"Yes. That is true." The slate-haired male stated. "But, in theory-"

"That doesn't make sense, Zex. If we need hearts to feel, how can we not need them to love?"

"Let me finish, would you? I mean, yes, you're right. We need hearts to feel. But maybe not to _lov_/."

Demyx sighed. It was apparent that he wasn't really following. "I'm not really getting this."

"I'm beginning I think that love has nothing to do with the heart. That real love - real _emotio_/ - comes from the soul."

And, oddly enough, that made just a _littl_/ bit of sense. And that was enough for Demyx. He jumped across the table and smashed his lips against the other's in a blur of movement.

After several minutes of making out over the table, the blonde pulled back just enough to press his forehead to Zexion's, looking him in the eyes as he murmured against his lips.

"Thank you."

"For?" Zexion asked breathlessly.

"For trying to love me."

xXx

The next theory came when they were lying together in Zexion's bed - he'd long since given up on his sanity, he realized that with Demyx came craziness, and that was okay with him -fingers tangled between them while they lay on their backs, basking in there aftermath of what had been pretty mind blowing sex.

"Have you ever stopped to think that maybe we didn't _lose_ our hearts? That maybe we just forgot how to use them? Maybe we all just got so caught up in our greed and selfish desires, and we just _forgot_ what real emotions were."

For a second, they said nothing. It was quiet as the two of them let the words sink in. Zexion hadn't meant to say them out loud at first, and Demyx was just a little bit shocked since...

"You sound like... like you actually think that we might still have our hearts. I mean, that /is/what you're saying..." He looked up at the ceiling, then over to Zexion. The other was still looking up, something in his eyes that appeared to be-

"I know."

-_hope-_

xXx

A few days later, while Demyx was lying in his room, messing with his sitar, Axel paid him a visit. And the first words out of his mouth were,

"When are you going to stop pretending?"

Taken aback, all Demyx could do was blink a little. "Uh, excuse me?"

Axel was staring at him with a hard, unreadable expression. "When are you going to stop acting like you can love him? When are you going to stop pretending that you _have a heart_? You don't, Demyx. It's _gone_."

The blonde looked at the redhead for a long second. Where was this even coming from? Axel had never shown interest in Demyx's relationship with Zexion before, so why now? Why now, when they were starting to figure things out?

"He doesn't care, Demyx. He's not doing it for _you_. He's using you. He's only trying to find out why you're so different from the rest of us. He's only trying to figure out why you aren't like your Somebody was. He doesn't ca-"

"That's not true." He was standing up - when had that happened? - and in Axel's face, gripping the front of his coat in a vice-like hold. "That's not-"

"It is. Ask him. Ask _Zexion_ why he's doing these things. Just _ask_ him."

"You're full of shit, Axel." He hissed, letting go of the redhead and shoving him away. "Get out."

"He doesn't care about you, Demyx. End this while you still have a shred of dignity."

"GET. OUT!"

And so, Axel did.

xXx

He couldn't help but be doubtful after what had happened with Axel.

It wasn't that be doubted Zexion - he was just... a little apprehensive towards his motives. And it was eating him alive. What if Zexion really was just toying with him? Then what? What would he _do_?

He would feel so stupid. So used. And he would be all alone again. His trust would be ruined, and there would be no one there to help him fix it.

Demyx was trying his best not to let it physically affect him, but it was just so _hard_ and-

"What's wrong, Demyx?"

-apparently he wasn't doing a good job of hiding things.

"Huh? Oh! I'm fine." He quickly replied, looking up at Zexion from the book he had been pretending to read.

Pretending.

"Are you sure? You seem a bit off today. Squeamish-"

"I'm fine!"

"Hasty-"

"No, no, really! I'm _fine_!"

Zexion sighed, putting the book that he'd actually been _reading_ down. "Tell me what's wrong."

The blonde shifted in his seat, opened his mouth to speak, closed it when he could think of nothing to say. How could he even ask? 'Oh, yeah, Axel told me that you were just using me. Bullshit, I know.' That sounded stupid, and... what if it _wasn't_ bullshit? What if Zexion was... was _toying_ with him? No, he just wouldn't be able to handle something like that...

"Demyx?"

The schemer did so much to him, and he probably had no idea. He was probably clueless as to how he managed to make Demyx nervous with just a glance, or that he could fluster the blonde with a simple movement, or that his laugh - no matter how rare - sent a wonderfully pleasant shiver down Demyx's spine. God, there was just so much that Zexion made him _feel_.

It was like having a heart, and finally knowing what to do with it. And he didn't want to lose it again. Not again. Never again.

"Do you love me?" His voice came out as nothing more audible than a whisper. Green eyes looked up, seeking soft blue. And when they found them, they saw nothing but raw /emotion/. There was hardly a beat before he was receiving an answer.

"Yes."

He released a shaky breath, relieved, and closed his eyes. And then,

"With all of my soul, Demyx."

He felt like he could cry. So, he did. And Zexion, though a bit shocked at first, was quick to console him.

xXx

"Axel told me that you were just using me."

"... Axel is an asshole. You should know that."

"Yeah. But... It's not true, right?"

"No. It's not. Not... not anymore."

"What do you mean?"

"Originally, I... I was only trying to figure things out. But my interests slowly formed into something more. Something that I couldn't explain - and it was a beautifully frightening thing. I was so scared, because I didn't know what was happening. It was more than lust, it was more than obsession. It was... it _is_ love."

xXx

There was really no telling how much time had passed before Number XIII showed up, and no telling how long after that it was before Zexion was leaving, being shipped out to Oblivion. It seemed as though one second they were falling madly, hopelessly in love, and the next - there time together was coming to a close.

It was the last night before Zexion would be gone, the last night that they would ever spend together - though, they didn't really /know/ it - when Number VI said something that made Demyx feel like there was so much to fight for, so much to live for, so much to _hope_ for...

xXx

In the end, they both discovered that, sometimes, things didn't need a reason. They were just beautiful and perfect, and worked without a purpose to work.

Sometimes, there were no reasons why.

When Demyx had still been Myde - or when Myde had not yet become Demyx - that love was stupid. That it had no point, no real purpose, no real reason to _be_.

But Zexion changed that. Zexion justified the means. And Demyx... he was okay with not having a heart, just so long as his soul could belong completely to Zexion.

xXx

... _"In the next life, we'll still love one another. I know it. Wait for me, alright?"_

_"Yeah. I'll wait. Forever, and ever, and ever."_

xXx

Fin.


End file.
